JOYRIDING INTO INFAMY.

(as originally published in The Scene Newspaper, Menasha, Wisconsin. circa 2010)

This month's subject is a rock you mentary.

It is about a world famous rock star.

It is about 78 minutes long.

It whips a donkey's ass.

It can really knock it out.

'Wesley Willis's Joy Rides' is perhaps the first, middle and last word on the life, times, art and essence of the true American original known as Wesley Willis (1963-2003). Willis was a Chicago born personality who struggled through poverty, familial dysfunction and the pains of chronic schizophrenia to stake his claim to underground fame as a hustler/songwriter/manic performance wonderkind who, in turn, elevated the spirits of endless crowds with his addictive form of bent creative energy. The first time I was exposed to the man (care the track 'Rock & Roll McDonald's') was like an overwhelming shock to my senses. I thought to myself, 'what the hell is this?' and 'where can I find more?' I have always been partial to the more eccentric members of our mostly listless and convention driven culture, so it would only prove natural for me to seek out more of Wesley on record and live on stage.

Through digesting tons of (often self-produced) albums featuring rants and chants touching on various bands, fast food joints, celebrities and vicarious bestial sex acts, I often wondered what the full story was behind what led this towering, manic,  300+ pound mammoth of a human to become something genuinely positive instead of yet another sad fixture in some mental institute somewhere.

With the arrival of this 'Joy Rides' documentary, one may now obtain an informative (if still somewhat fractured) distillation and analysis of the life lived by this completely nominal and incomparable character. We are presented this information by way of many of the standard practices required of the biographical strain of the documentary format. The film presents copious footage of the man in motion, crafting, recording and belting out his music live. It sheds impressive light on his family life (his father and several brothers lend colorful voice to the topic of Wes), friendships that seemed to have often served as life saving moral support and the origin and troublesome particulars of Wesley's mental 'glitches' (his 'demon' runs him on frequent hell rides with what Willis deems 'torture profanity'). Archival photographic gems reveal Willis as a lanky, awkward youth infatuated with architecture and developing tight, meticulous line drawing technique that gives birth to a mass of huge, sprawling renditions of the Windy City, its public transit system and its skyline that Wesley would produce on a prolific scale until the very day he clocked out of this thing called mortality at the too young age of 40 (leukemia was the culprit).

When discussing Wesley Willis, it is important to keep in mind the patently different approach to deemed insanity the man typifies. Unlike the brand of shifty, crack addled street dregs that tend to put the fear of murder into folks with their vocal cacophonies and suspect behavioral traits, Wesley tended to work the good out of most of his public encounters (providing he was adequately medicated) with the sheer power of his bold and gregarious personality. One interviewee states late in the film that Wesley is a kind of person who is so in love with life that he acts imbalanced, he has the opposing effect of a standard issue 'mad' person, whom you want to be away from. Wesley tends to uplift those around him and many of the words employed by those who lend commentary in this film reiterate this statement by way of key personal anecdotes. Sometimes, crazy is simply an affirmation of true individuality.

'Wesley Willis' Joy Rides' works first on the basics of documentary criteria, in that it sells its subject matter as a legitimate point of interest and second as a fascinating case study of the sheer might of the human spirit as well as the potency of artistic expression as tools to offset and transcend hardship and handicap in order to attain a higher standard of living. The DVD release boasts some fine add-on bits including an extensive collection of deleted footage, herein one gets a glimpse at the likes of a Willis 'tribute' concert held in Belgium (?!?), a slightly creepy Kinko's based encounter with a loopy Jesus crispy and a Wesley cameo in an otherwise disposable short film ('The Dead and the Dying'). A pair of photo galleries round the package out nice and sweet like lunch meat. Wonderful stuff, highly recommended to all who seek to revel in the beauty of life by way of less than expected sources.

To track this pretty little poem to rock and roll, check it Internet-wise at-www.wesleywillissjoyrides.com

ALSO......

CONFESSIONS OF A SUPERHERO

Being the day to day quest for cultural immortality on the part of an L.A. based posse made up of a seriously delusion afflicted quartet of faux comic book personas. A fetishistic Superman, a bargain rate George Clooney-looking Batman, Wonder Woman and a buck toothed afro -centric Hulk jockey for tips and attention on Hollywood Blvd while clinging to the far fetched hope of making the grade with the A-List.

The fine line between quirky in a charming way and crash and burn pathetic is blurred from the start as we follow this hope-deprived crew through their desperate, streetwise routine that barely clarifies the real difference between these pulpy fools and commonplace panhandlers (save for the color palate of their costumes, of course). With the slight exception of the Wonder Woman wannabe (just another starry-eyed hick girl), this bunch is dominated by what can only be accurately referenced as absolute retards. The movie gives up a Superman who obsesses over everything 'Man of Steel' and Christopher Reeve (and claims blood relation to now obscure actress Sandy Dennis), a Batman with a temper glitch who lays claim to a former life of crime and a Hulk who looks as if he got face raped by an inbred jackass.

Now, while I can easily admire the film on its own merits and legitimate level of technical competency, I am hard pressed to become emotionally connected to the subjects to any degree higher than that of a giggling patron at a carnival sideshow. There is fun to be had with the film, no mistake. Its all train wreck fab in the details of this prime slice of Tinsel Town tackiness gone sadly amok. The movie could probably double as a potent warning sign to parents of future generation dumb shits who still cling to the tired belief of having a shot at greatness simply by parading their mug around that city of angels.  Blah! Think twice.

Rock Over London, Rock On Wisconsin,

killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com, it's the best way to kill time online.